


on earth, our goodbyes

by ephedilia



Category: Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Missing Scene, Parent-Child Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 05:21:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12425862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephedilia/pseuds/ephedilia
Summary: Maybe, she should have been expecting a final heartbreak when the war was over.





	on earth, our goodbyes

She’s breathing hard, rushing with all her strength to catch up. Levin’s silhouette reassures her, his steps are steady against the floor, it rewards her for leaving as soon as she could.

“What’s wrong?”

Lewyn turns around, his expression tranquil. Julia’s breath hitches at how peaceful and resigned he seems.

She mutters, “Please.” Her hands grip her dress. “Please, don’t go.”

Lewyn’s smile throws her off. His eyes are stern but not judging, the acceptance hidden into a rueful, silent resignation. He gives that smile—the one of the careful planning, of meditative, blunt words, the one that wrecked others with his indifference. But Julia knows better. He cares, he has always cared, he still cares. Her horror is Lewyn probably believes he is supposed to not care. She can only stare back, her throat ready for a scream.

_You do. You have the right to care. You aren’t empty._

Her whole life, she had leaned on his strength, his wisdom, his silence. The first separation had been expected, Seliph’s reassurance having no-effect, as her hands kept shaking, anxious of the unknown until their arrival to Lenster. The questions had plagued her. The what-ifs stayed intact in her mind until Lewyn ruffled her head, asking her if she’d rested well in his absence. The relief had been immense; Julia only nodded, a timid, gentle smile along with it. Behaving like a child was improper, the Liberation Army carried a burden bigger than expected but her tears came only after Lewyn’s smile.

Maturity had nothing to do. The Empire’s synonyms were cruelty and unfairness, it was the harsh reality of killing or being killed. Silessia was cornered but Julia witnessed the turmoil, understanding she'd have to grow up.

Her reactions were unfitting of a imperial princess. Anyone could blame her, she had been raised improperly; a commoner, out of everything. Julia cared less to none—Lewyn had been there, not the nobles.

Lewyn doesn’t say anything but his fingers ruffle her head.

“I’ll always be with you.” He soothes her, and Julia widens her eyes.

“That’s—”  _That's not what I asked for._

Lewyn’s gaze is faraway. “A tactician is not needed in a peaceful era.”

“So are soldiers, so are mercenaries.” Julia's voice rises, struggles to remain even.

“I’m none of those.”

“Then, what  _are_  you?”

A part of her refuses him. It’s weary and exhausted of being shoved, treated like a cosmic doll, an hilarity for the pleasure of the gods; it demands and condemns all the continent to be thrown into despair — the hideous, repugnant fuel her heart clings fiercely. There’s another part of her, and Julia focuses into this one; adamant of accepting harsh truths, she’d none of the details but the reproach and low whispers from some people on the army had been alerting.

For a second, Julia wishes she’d been left alone, death ready to clutch its grip on her; instead of being kept alive.

Lewyn smiles wryly, a sight Julia recognizes whenever he delivers news.

She grabs his sleeve, feeling him slip away. “Lewyn—” Julia meets his stare. Her mouth runs dry, looking at the seriousness on his face, the glint in his eyes. It’s subtle, but she understands, somehow, an unspoken territory is unfolding, a truth she’s denied for longer than anyone will be given credit for. “Lewyn, back there, with Seliph—”

The question hovers, and Lewyn turns away. “Your brother will need you.”

It’s less infuriating. Less infuriating than it should be. The heartbreak is a familiar taste on her mouth; sour and bitter.

Bit by bit, Julia reminisces—her mother, out of all. The maids praise Deirdre again, revere her as a mythical figure, instead of remembering. Julia wonders if she’s the only to tell the tale of the woman, her far away eyes and her sorrowful aura. She’d loved her mother, sought her occasionally, her biggest worry in life tainting her pristine dress with flowers from the garden.

Sometimes, Julia remembers her, and tears fall from her cheeks, mourning for the ghost that lingers. Trapped, Deirdre’s still trapped in the sorrow, and all Julia wishes if for her to go and move on, let her be, forgive her for living another day. Arvis is no less troublesome. He’s gone, everyone celebrates his fall, chanting praises for the survival of the rightful. No one speaks how the same praises were given to the same man. The hypocrisy would always have remain, Julia wishes this had been changed.

Instead, she lowers her guard, and skeletons follow her steps.

If her actions were vilified, her mother's sanctified, her father’s injustice condemned, Julia trusted enough she’d become strong because—

Someone had picked her from the ground, loved her.

Lewyn turns to look at her, his eyes shining in that look whenever he found it difficult to express anything in words. He hesitates, pauses, and reassumes what he’d started.

“Condemn those who followed, either by ambition, or blind loyalty, the Sept’s ideals, not those who had to do to survive another day.” Lewyn closes his eyes. “It’s not the same. But it’s easy to confuse, learn this and Granvalle will remain strong.”

Julia’s mind goes blank.

She had died with Julius that day. Too terrified to remember. Too scarred at the memory of Deirdre pushing her away from the lethal strike. She had escaped from her lineage, and she still does, sometimes, when her throat is sore and she can’t breathe in deep enough.

Amnesia had been a doble-sided coin.

The first night had been foreign, strangling. Her body woke up, shaking, the rough blankets feeling thin, Silessia's wind creaking against the door. Only Lewyn’s breathing had eased her, taking her back to sleep. It was a routine, the simple action becoming her lullaby. Her heart had taken so many beatings. Julia doubts this will be the last; all the losses, and never mourning when it was allowed. Rejecting her heart on her sleeve again is rational, the grudge will only devour her. But she wishes firmly to do the opposite. It’s selfish, Julia is self-conscious enough to understand this is the last request of her childhood.

She can’t return to her life. Growing up means walking without the guidance of Lewyn’s hand on hers.

She tries to reach out again and beg him to promise to stay, unlike everyone in her life. She stops herself. It’s too demanding, Julia chastises her emotions before choosing to look up at him. Levin’s unreadable stare squeezes her heart.

No matter how hard she tries, everything slips away from her.

“Whenever you find yourself alone, Julia.” His hand is placed carefully, hesitant on her head. The affection is open, a new torture for her need to cry. “Seek the wind and you’ll understand—”

Lewyn turns around. His smile is gentler, it never leaves, as he walks away. She catches a glimpse of him disappear from the halls, that frighteningly, timeless second feeling longer than her entire life. Her mouth dries up, the impulse to scream, ask him to take her with him, ready to tear her apart. A beat of silence, and the steps get lower until she ceases to almost hear them. Realization bolts through her whole body and Julia runs, her entire focus on the sudden gust of wind.

The smell of flora smacks her. Julia blinks, the sight of the gardens freezing her. Her feet shake, her eyes sting, her heart pounds loudly. It beats faster than it’s for all the campaign. Another blink, Julia looks around.

She falls to her knees, mud getting into the cloth. In middle of her cries, the breeze caresses her cheek swiftly, a faint, familiar brush. Julia’s throat burns, her eyes wide, she looks up. No one greets her, only the wind.

“I won’t... I won’t forget...!”

Everything is blown away by another gust, her fingertips brushing nothing but an afterimage. Lewyn’s smile greets her a goodbye.

“I won’t forget...! Father!”

Like a parent telling a farewell to their child.

**Author's Note:**

> it hurt to write this but we all need that julia-lewyn family content and i’ll write it if no one will!
> 
> also @ intsys: let lewyn meet his daughter in askr


End file.
